Young Chuck in Montana bought a horse from a farmer for $100. The farmer agreed to deliver the horse the next day. The next day he drove up and said, 'Sorry son, but I have some bad news, the horse died.'

Day 983 of my captivity...My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.

The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.

Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a 'good little hunter' I am. Jerks.

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of 'allergies.' I must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow -- but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded.

The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicating with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe...for now.

A preacher was making his rounds on a bicycle, when he came upon a little boy trying to sell a lawn mower.'How much do you want for the mower?' asked the preacher.'I just want enough money to go out and buy me a bicycle,' said the little boy.After a moment of consideration, the preacher asked, Will you take my bike in trade for it?'The little boy asked if he could try it out first, and, after riding the bike around a little while, said, 'Mister, you've got yourself a deal.'The preacher took the mower and began to crank it. He pulled on the rope a few times with no response from the mower.The preacher called the little boy over and said, 'I can't get this mower to start.'The little boy said, 'That's because you have to cuss at it to get it started.'The preacher said, I can't cuss. It's been so long since I became a Christian that I don't even remember how to cuss.'The little boy looked at him happily and said, 'You just keep pulling on that rope. It'll come back to ya.

Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson were going camping. They pitched their tent under the stars and went to sleep.

Sometime in the middle of the night Holmes woke Watson up and said: “Watson, look up at the stars, and tell me what you see.”

Watson replied: “I see millions and millions of stars.”

Holmes said: “and what do you deduce from that?”

Watson replied: “Well, if there are millions of stars, and if even a few of those have planets, it’s quite likely there are some planets like earth out there. And if there are a few planets like earth out there, there might also be life.”

And Holmes said: “Watson, you idiot, it means that somebody stole our tent.”

How it Works when Bidding a Federal JobThree contractors are bidding to fix a broken fence at the White House in D.C.; One from Illinois one from Tennessee and a third from Kentucky They all go with a White House official to examine the fence.The Tennessee contractor takes out a tape measure and does some measuring, then works some figures with a pencil. 'Well', he says, 'I figure the job will run about $900: $400 for materials, $400 for my crew and $100 profit for me.'The Kentucky contractor also does some measuring and figuring, then says, 'I can do this job for $700: $300 for materials, $300 for my crew and $100 profit for me.'The Illinois contractor doesn't measure or figure, but leans over to the White House official and whispers, '$2,700.'The official, incredulous, whispers back, 'You didn't even measure like the other guys! How did you come up with such a high figure?'The Illinois contractor whispers back, '$1000 for me, $1000 for you, and we hire that guy from Kentucky to fix the fence.'